Knight
by nightmistral
Summary: I will live by the sword and die by the sword, if only for my Queen.


Disclaimer: I do not own Tithe or any of the characters here.

I loved the sky. It was the only thing that kept me alive in my bitter existence serving the Lady of the Dark Courts, so far from the sun-kissed fields of my land, and the gracious smiles of my Queen, so in contrast to the savage pleasure in Nicnevin's as she watched me, powerless to resist her commands, yielding to her every whim and fancy. Like a ravening wolf, she fed off me – my tears of sorrow, my thoughts of sorrow, and most of all, my love for my Queen.

Unconciously, I clenched my fist. Nails sliced pale skin, raking open crescent-shaped tears. Crimson pooled from the wounds, staining my livery vermillion, spotting the veined marble floor. They sparkled in the few pitiful rays of sun that had managed to squeeze through the chinks in the high, arched roof, as if mocking me. _A knight must have his ruler, if he is to fight for a cause. Whither is your Queen? Your bond to Nicnevin will soon be over, yet the Bright Courts have been silent. Did you think that she would have taken your declaration seriously? You were but a toy, but a toy… hers to play with , to use as she desired._

"Silence!" It was more of a desperate cry, the way I sobbed it out, and I hated myself for it, for how weak I'd become. I slammed my sword into the oaken bench without warning, feeling the blade bite seamlessly into the wood, heard the startled shrieks of the Night Faeries who surged away from me, from the Bright Court outsider, both Silarial's and Nicnevin's toy. Somehow, it enraged me further and I struck about blindly, blade flashing in the darkness, seeking to sweep away the fears and the anxieties that hedged me, but all I could sense was the stench of blood that clung to my blade, hear the wet thump of bodies hitting the floor and the tortured screams in my ears, see the Court in wild disarray as faeries and the other knights fought to get away from me. If nothing else, it gave me a cold feeling of satsifaction – if I could not break my bond of service to Nicnevin, at least I could wreak havoc in her dark court of forsaken dreams, bitterness and cruelty.

"Roiben! Hold your blade!" That dreaded voice cut accross the uprorar of the frantic melee, halting even Dulcamara who was battling with me. Obedient to her order, my fingers moved of their own accord, releasing their grip on the swordhilt. I bowed my head, watching it fall to hit the floor, blade-first, saw the crystal blade shatter into innumerable pieces, each a reflection of my pale, drawn face glaring back at me. My lip curled in suppressed anger. It had been Silarial's gifting to me, the day I'd become a knight in her service, and I had treasured it above all the other blades I'd won from my opponents. I knew Nicnevin had done it on purpose, partly out of revenge for slaying her finest knights, and partly out of perverse pleasure in denying me the only reminder I had of my Queen.

Nicnevin swept forward, tawny eyes gleaming with false concern. She laid her hands on my arm, reaching to touch the still-bleeding cuts on my palm. I flinched as her long nails raked accross the cuts, re-opening the wounds. Pleasure flickered in her eyes as she looked at me enquiringly," Roiben, you are not troubled, I hope? So far, your days in my Court seem… happy."

I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to snarl openly. I hated her and her court as fiercely as I'd loved my queen. Hated them for the misery that they'd caused me, the many hours that i had to spend, far away from the sky, the many ignominies that I was subjected to. Unbidden, the image of one of the Exiles rose in my mind, his face full of speechless terror, as driven by Nicnevin's will, I rode him down. I remembered the drawn-out wail of agony as my steed pounded him into the dust, the blood that later spattered my hands as I dragged his lifeless corpse onto my saddle as a trophy, the accusing look of the innocent on his face, glaring at me, the murderer who'd killed him. Bile rose in my throat, filling my mouth with a bitter taste. Instead, I shook my head, not meeting her eyes. "No, milady. I serve you and you only."

"And not Silarial?" she asked, a sly look in her terrible eyes as she stared at me. I knew then, that she wanted me to admit complete allegiance to her, something that I could not do so long as I loved Silarial. My Queen's face hovered before me, her flaxen tresses, so many times brighter than the sun flowing down her back, large violet eyes brimming with happiness, lips curling in an exuberant smile. No, it was because of her that I served Nicnevin without question. I cursed myself for being so foolish as to be forced into her trap, because I could not lie.

"I am Silarial's knight, milady. But so long as I am in the Dark Courts, I serve you, milady."

She snorted contemptuously, anger flaring in her eyes. But it was the truth, and she knew it. "Very well, Roiben. Though, if you will heed it, a word of advice: Silarial, queen though she is, is a flighty creature. You would do well to forget her, especially in my halls. Come, we have work to do."

Accompanied by Dulcamara, she left the hall. I followed mutely. At the door, I looked back. My blade was still lying as I'd left it, broken on the floor. The fragments gleamed, like many eyes in the dying light, like shattered dreams, swiftly forgotten. A dying dream of summer, no longer there.

Farewell, Silarial. I am Nicnevin's now, and forevermore.


End file.
